


The Lucky One

by wingedbears



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Steve Harrington, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Families of Choice, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Billy Hargrove, Season/Series 02, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedbears/pseuds/wingedbears
Summary: In a world where on one arm is your soulmate's name, and the other's is your enemy's, omega Billy has to learn to let shit go.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 16
Kudos: 377
Collections: harringrove for Australia





	The Lucky One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainwingdings (Greggles_Lestrade)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greggles_Lestrade/gifts).



Billy isn’t much of an omega. He’s loud, brash, muscled, and unwilling to submit. He knows this. He’s proud. He concocts an herb mix and drinks it every day so his omega senses will wear off. Neil won’t pay for the meds. 

Billy isn’t much of a son, either. When his mom had told him about soulmates, and how some people never meet theirs, and only have enemies on one wrist, or their soulmate’s name on the other, she’d run her fingers over _Neil_ , bruised and purple. “I’m one of the lucky ones,” she said. “I have a soulmate.” At seven, Billy knew that was a lie. He knew that Neil was her enemy. But his mom believed, he thought, because she needed something to hold onto. 

Neil was subtle about his abuse first, never where Billy could see. Never where anyone would know. 

Patty Hargrove left Neil one hot summer night, windows open to an empty driveway. But she left Billy too.

And the beta man rages on; by the time Billy is twelve, Neil’s name shows up on his left arm, just like his mom’s. This is the first time Billy’s arm is broken. 

Billy wears long sleeves after that, trying his best to not remind Neil that his son inherited his wife’s mark. 

Then Neil marries Susan, and suddenly Billy has to be nice to Max, who is surly enough to be an alpha, but they’re not sure yet.

Omegas are treasured, should have jewels and people taking care of them, because only one in four hundred was omega. Less than one percent. A gift, a blessing. Not Billy. He considers it a curse. 

Sure, sometimes, late at night, in his sleep, he dreams of being doted on, of being told how wonderful he is. Being touched by someone else, soothing and kind, love on their fingertips. But then Billy wakes up alone, Neil’s name on one arm, and no soulmate on the other. 

Then Max catches him with Danny, the boy he plays basketball with at school, and his only respite of going to the edge of America and staring out over the ocean is gone. That’s the second time Neil breaks his arm. 

The nurses glance at his fractured arm and then the name printed in ink under the guardian’s signature and they wince. Ask him questions he can’t answer.

And if that wasn’t enough, Neil moves him to Indiana because there’s nothing like the midwest to squash Billy’s hopes, dreams, and inclination to sleep with boys. 

His dad’s old fashioned that way. Out of a sick sense of self preservation that Billy doesn’t know why his mind hangs onto, Billy doesn’t argue. Just tucks his tail and follows, limping to Indiana. 

The next two months fly by, Max getting up to shit, and then getting him into shit, just like old times. So Billy goes and finds her in an old house, Steve Harrington protecting her and several other pups in there. 

Billy is broken and tired, and not even this pretty boy can stop him from lashing out. 

When he wakes up, his neck and right arm itches. He figures it’s a side effect, and walks out to find his Camaro gone. 

He walks home, angry and tired, tears coming unbidden and he pushes them down and back, just like alpha Steve Harrington. 

Billy wants to be proud. He beat an alpha! An alpha protecting cubs! But he just feels guilt roil in his stomach. 

He gets home, happy Neil’s at work, takes a shower, letting the scabs on his lips open again, washing pink down the drain. His right arm is furiously pink from him scratching it so damn much, and Billy squints at the raised skin, because it looks like… like a name.

Billy doesn’t dare hope, doesn’t hold his breath as he feels over the skin with his eyes closed, searching for the raised skin, for a pattern that might be his soulmate.

He can’t find one. Wednesday comes in, and Steve Harrington shows up, bruised and banged, one eye barely open. No one can look at him without sucking in their breath. Must’ve been some fight, they say in the hallways. Who would take on Steve Harrington?

The pride Billy felt Monday night drains from him fast, the guilt of his actions coming back again full force. Billy tries to tell himself it’s his omega nature, wanting to submit. But he’s never felt like this with any of the other alphas he’s gotten into fights with before. 

He swallows down an apology and goes through school and basketball practice without a hitch, his arm becoming tender, throbbing during practice. 

He doesn’t taunt Harrington. Can barely look at him in his one good eye. 

Billy hits the showers fast, and Tommy is behind him, alpha posturing. Billy kinda wishes he had just given up the ghost and went in the empty omega’s showers, instead of the shared alpha and beta ones.

“Someone got you good, Steve,” Tommy crows, looking to Billy for backup, and then sneering when Billy says nothing. 

Steve shrugs stiltedly, like it hurts to move. 

Tommy tries a different attack, “Saw Nancy with Jonathan today, that’s gotta hurt worse than that shiner.”

Steve just soaps up his hair. 

Tommy finishes, scoffs, and leaves the showers until it’s just Billy and Steve, the water running lukewarm. 

Billy looks down at his arms, Neil on the left, and, he bites his lip. He still can’t really see it. 

“Got a new name coming in?” Steve asks conversationally. Like Billy didn’t knock his ass out cold two days ago. 

“Yeah,” Billy says, caught up in the wonder of it. “Never had a soulmate mark,” he admits. 

Steve hums. “I’ve had one, it’s fading though.” Billy thinks the name’s Nancy. “But I got a new one yesterday.”

Steve turns to him and lifts both arms, wrists turned out so Billy can read. Sure enough, Nancy is there, fading like an old man’s tattoo, the lines running together and turning a deep blue. But Steve’s other arm? 

_Billy._

“What?” Billy asks, heart in his throat. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, looking at the fresh mark like it’s the dirt under his nails, something to be dug out. “Never had an enemy til now. Thanks, Hargrove.” Steve reaches out to Billy’s shoulder and squeezes, before switching off his shower and walking away. 

Billy stands under the cold water for another minute, watching as his new mark blooms black on his arm. _Steve_. 

Fuck.

— — — — 

Billy’s never heard of someone having two marks that were both for enemies, so, he’s living proof, right?

Billy drops Max off at the arcade and slips into the library. He scans the stacks, making sure no one from school is there before making a beeline over to the classified card catalogue.

He pulls open the Sa-Sp drawer, and thumbs through the cards until he hits _Soulmates, Marks, Unusual._ There’s only two books on the subject, but he finds them quickly and hides in the corner where the 100s are, because no one would go back and look for a fucking philosophy book in this town. He’s safe, here.

He takes out a pencil and starts noting the index pages where there might be something, and flips through the books, searching for answers. 

He learns more than he wanted, like sometimes mates have symbols on their arms that carry significance for both them, and their mate, that it doesn’t matter what arm a soulmate or an enemy mark shows on. 

And someone can have more than one soulmate at the same time. But not two enemies. 

Billy leans back on the stacks, the book spines of Camus and Aristotle digging into his back. So, Steve’s enemy is Billy. And Billy’s soulmate is Steve.

“Fuck,” he whispers, dragging his finger through his hair. Just like fate to throw Billy another fucking curveball. Just like his life to be so one sided and meaningless. 

He feels tears, unbidden, rise behind his eyes, his throat close up. He takes a few steady breaths, and then walks out, leaving the books on the floor.

Not looking, he crashes into a smaller form. He looks down at the curly headed kid that Max hangs out with, who is knocked down on his ass.

The guy has like, ten books, and even Billy knows the limit is two. 

The kid starts gathering his stuff, glaring at Billy.

Billy, body on automatic, reaches down and picks up two of the books. He looks at the titles. “The Conclusive Guide to Finding Fungus,” he reads outloud.

The kid snatches the book out of his hand, and on older brother instinct, Billy raises the other book out of reach from small and crabby. 

“Come on, Billy, give it,” he says.

Billy blinks. “I’ll give you ‘Fungal and Fungal-like Diseases of Plants’ if you tell me what’s going on.”

Curly squints, really giving Billy the stink eye. “Steve’s enemies are my enemies,” he says. “And I oppose all who oppose him.”

Billy still holds the book up, even though Curly’s not jumping, just being snide. And rubbing in on one of Billy’s sore spots. 

Okay, more like an aching, open wound that Curly’s smearing salt into. 

“Did you really just misquote the Bible to me?” Billy asks.

Curly looks shocked. “You’ve read the Bible?”

“No, idiot, I was forced to go to church til I was about your age.”

Curly’s shock doesn’t wear off, he only becomes more gaping fish-like as he looks up at Billy’s arm holding the book. His eyes dart to Billy’s other arm, and Curly looks like he’s about to pass out. “Neil’s your dad,” he whispers. “Steve’s your _soulmate_?!”

Billy quickly clamps both arms to his sides, like that will turn back time and Curly hadn’t read what he just did. “I have two enemies,” Billy lies, and the lie turns to ash in his mouth. “It happens,” he shrugs, attempting tough, cool guy with two enemies energy. 

“Nuh-Uh!” Curly shouts, shaking his head, his nose scrunched up. 

“Mr. Henderson, please be quiet!” a voice through the stacks says. Could only be the librarian.

Curly, Henderson, steps forward, and thankfully lowers his voice. “Give me my book, and I won’t tell Steve,” he says.

Billy slowly puts it on top of the pile that Henderson is carrying. “Can I at least know why you’re studying mushrooms?” He shouldn’t ask. He needs to walk away. 

Henderson darts his eyes around, “Uh, the town has some real crop issues, and well, ever since the pumpkin patch rotted, and then the demodo — I mean since uhh, yesterday, I thought it could help answer some questions.”

“About crops.”

Henderson nods, too quickly. 

“You don’t look like the farming type.”

“Well you know, Indiana is my home, and uh. Gotta take care of it,” Henderson says. He sounds like he’s stumbling onto sentences found on the ground, picking them up, and saying, ‘that’ll do.’ He’s lying, in other words.

Billy stares, trying to let the intimidation factor make this Henderson pup roll over and bare his belly. 

All Henderson does is jut his chin upward, then smiles slowly. 

“How bad do you not want for Steve to find out?” he asks, eyes gleaming.

The real answer: everything. 

Billy’s response is gritted through his snarl: “What are you trying to pull?”

“I need a ride out to Merrill’s pumpkin patch. And Eugene’s.” He thinks of something else, his face lighting up, “And you can’t tell anyone, I mean ANYONE.”

“Mr. Henderson!” the librarian sounds closer.

“Well?” Henderson asks, eyes widening at the footsteps of the librarian coming closer.

“Fucking fine,” Billy spits out.

Henderson turns and runs out with his books. 

The librarian looks at Billy. “Did you see him?” she asks.

“See who?” Billy replies and tugs his sleeves down and strolls out the front door.

Henderson is heavily breathing by the front steps, books still in hand. 

“We doing this, or what?” Billy growls, and Henderson straightens up and jogs over to Billy’s Camaro. 

Dustin pulls the front seat way back, dumping his books on the floorboard and scooting in behind them. When he puts on his seatbelt, there’s a gap between the belt and his chest. “Okay, Merriell’s pumpkin patch,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go!” 

“Only on the condition you don’t tell anyone I did this for you.”

“Okay!” Henderson chirps, too quickly. “And uh… it’s going to be ongoing. I don’t forget stuff easily.”

Billy growls, but jams the Camaro into first, and by the time he’s turning out of the parking lot, he’s in third.

— — — -

The first pumpkin patch is rotted to hell. The smell is gross.

The second one is somehow worse, and it has a giant hole in the middle. “What the fuck?” Billy asks, about to jump in but Henderson grabs his arm.

“Don’t!” he shouts, gripping Billy’s jean jacket hard enough to pull it from his shoulder. 

“Why?” Billy shrugs off the grip, glaring at the kid. 

“It’s not safe.”

“Henderson, I’m seventeen, it’s a huge fucking hole in the middle of a pumpkin patch. I’m going in.”

“No!” Henderson grabs his waist, his scent in distress. Fear.

Billy steps away from the hole, but steps away from Henderson’s grip again. “What the hell, Henderson?”

“Okay,” Henderson says, chest puffed out in anger, “first of all, my name is Dustin. Dust-in.” He raises both hands and chops the air on the syllable beat. “Second, you don’t know what we’re dealing with here, and it’s crazy, and, oddly, I don’t want you to die because I’m weird like that I guess. I can’t tell you what’s happening, all I can tell you is you can’t go down that hole.”

“What’s gonna stop me from coming here after I drop you off at home, huh? What if they’re even more fungus, the fungus that’s killing these fucking pumpkins, down there. And why are we even in this fucking field, it’s like three weeks away from Thanksgiving, and you’re, what, collecting spore samples? For fun?” Billy yells, releasing his anger, his stress out on a pup half his size.

“FOR SCIENCE!” Henderson yells back, spit flecks flying everywhere. He points out to where downtown Hawkins is. “My friends, my pack, lives here, and I want to figure out what’s causing all this, because if I can? Then I might unlock the next level of the crazy shit going on in this town, that I’m legally not allowed to talk about, because some guy in a suit will come to my house and shoot me.” He’s beet red, heaving breaths making his shoulders rise. The smell of salt from sweat and tears weaves its way into Billy’s nose. 

They stand for a moment, looking at each other. Billy looks to his left, takes a deep breath and sighs. It sounds stupid. Like the game that Max plays with Henderson kind of stupid. Made up, elements of horror, but with strategy. Billy has listened too much to her talk about it. “Okay,” he says. “What kind of stuff do you need to collect?” It’s not an apology. But Dustin smiles like it is one. 

— — -

Billy does his damnedest to peel out of Henderson’s front lawn as soon as he’s got the door open, but then Dustin’s mom sees him and waves. Billy clenches his jaw, and smears on a fake smile. 

“Thank you for giving Dusty a ride!” Mrs. Henderson says, looking sincerely comforted by Billy’s help. 

“I uh,” he starts, already has the Camaro in reverse.

“You’ll stay over for dinner won’t you? Dusty, is it okay if your friend stays for dinner?” she calls out. 

Billy glares daggers at Henderson through the open passenger window, but all Dustin does is point to his right arm, nodding yes.

Dammit. 

“Yeah,” Billy says, clearing his throat. “I’d love to stay, Mrs. Henderson.” He kills the engine and leans over to roll up the passenger window, making sure that every second is used to send Henderson withering glares. 

“Oh,” Mrs. Henderson titters, but not in the breathy way Karen did, but like a mom, talking to a kid, “call me Claudia, honey.”

Billy stretches his mouth wide, hoping it’s a facsimile of a smile. “I don’t think so, Mrs. Henderson.”

“So polite!” Claudia flutters, somehow actually genuine, then ushers him in the house with Dustin. “I made chicken broccoli casserole,” she says as soon as she closes the door. “It’s frozen though, Dusty can you set the oven to 350?” 

Billy follows Dustin into the kitchen, Claudia right behind. 

“Now, uh,” Claudia looks at Billy for a moment, blinking. 

“That’s Billy, Mom,” Dustin prompts.

“Billy!” Mrs. Henderson blushes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry I should have asked you earlier, I just thought you were so nice to drive Dustin home, and I just,” she throws her hands up, helpless, tears forming. 

_Oh no_. “It’s okay, Mrs. Henderson, it’s a pleasure,” Billy cuts in so she won’t cry. _Please don’t cry._

She gives him a watery smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just, ever since Dan left, I —” she presses her lips together, sniffles. 

Dustin turns from the oven, panicked. “Mom it’s okay,” he says softly.

Billy simply reaches over and pulls out a Kleenex from a macrame box and hands it over. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, taking Billy’s offered tissue and Dustin’s unapologetic hug. “I’m all out of sorts, sometimes,” she admits.

Billy wants to ask who this fucker Dan is, and where he lives, but he clears his throat instead. “I’m looking forward to your casserole, ma’am,” Billy says. 

Claudia sags in relief. “Really?” she asks. “Oh I hope you’ll like it, it has lots of sour cream!” She whisks behind the counter, and Dustin hesitantly joins him at the counter on a stool. She pulls the casserole out from the freezer. “How was your day, honey?” she asks, attempting to pull off the pyrex lid. 

Billy reaches out and pops it open for her. 

She smiles brightly and Dustin starts talking, “Well, uh the group is thinking about meeting at Mike’s for another session this weekend. Can I go?”

“If you finish your homework,” Claudia says easily. Just like that. No hanging threats or expectations. 

“Okay,” Dustin says, digging through his crammed backpack, ready to get to work. 

“Billy? Do you have any homework?” Claudia asks, and Billy blinks. It feels unnatural, strange, for someone to ask after Billy’s schoolwork. Neil just expects Billy to get A’s, or else. 

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “finished in it in free period.” 

Mrs. Henderson smiles. “Well maybe you can help Dusty with some of his,” she says.

“Mom!” Dustin squawks, stuff spread all over the dining room table already. “I don’t need help!”

“It’s never hurtful to ask for help,” Claudia says, practiced and calm. 

“Just hard,” Dustin finishes for her, sighing dramatically. “But I don’t!” he says.

“What about your new after school project?” Billy asks, prodding.

Dustin tilts his head. “Uh…Yeah! Mom, Billy’s helping me with a science fair project. So he’ll be around for a while.”

Claudia beams. “That’s great!” She turns to Billy. “I’m going to make some rice, can you help me?”

Billy turns his head behind him to where Dustin is already spread out at the table with books, including the fungus ones. He turns back. “Uh, sure. I’d love that.”

He helps her get out the pan, measure the rice, follow the directions all while she asks him a million questions.

You’re Neil and Susan’s boy? _Yes._

What grade? _11th._

Do you know Steve Harrington? _Yes._

Do you want to go to college? _Not sure yet._

Dinner is ready before they know it, and Billy sets the table because he wants to, not because he has to, although he has to pry the napkins out of Claudia’s hands. 

It’s weird, sitting and eating together and talking congenially and not having the fear of Neil staring down at his covered arms, inhaling his dulled scent. Waiting for when Billy finally turns his belly over and lets his hormones run rampant. 

Billy helps clean up after dinner, and on his way out, Dustin pulls him aside. “Meet me at the school library tomorrow, study room B.”

Billy clenches his jaw but nods, and Claudia swoops in for a hug. 

It feels nice, soft and warm, her perfume and hairspray wafting up into his nose, her calming scent reaching out to him. It says _pack cub pack_ , and Billy swallows, gently touching her shoulders.

“Bye Hendersons,” Billy says, and pulls out of the driveway to tear down the roads.

Neil is waiting for him. “Where’s Max?” he asks, as Billy darts from the living room to the hallway. 

“At the arcade, probably. Or hanging out with her friends. She’s twelve, she can take care of herself.”

Neil snaps his paper to fold in half. “What?” he asks, and Billy stiffens.

The problem with Neil, is that he’s not like this all the time. He’s angry, or quiet most of the time, but there’s enough of a facade to fool everyone in town, and sometimes Billy gets swept up in the mirage of a picture perfect middle class family. 

“I said she might be at the arcade, or with her friends,” Billy repeats, hoping he can just go to his room. 

“Why do you smell like beta?” Neil hisses. _Like not-pack_ is what he means.

“I was having dinner at a friend’s house.” The truth, sort of. If he could call Dustin a friend.

Neil calmly wraps up the newspaper, still clutched in his hand. “When you’re under my house, it’s my rules. And I only have two rules, Billy. What are they?”

Billy swallows. He knows he should say it, knows that a beating will come if he doesn’t, but something about the way Claudia hugged him, her cheap perfume still on his jacket, the way Dustin just let him in to his pack’s den without hesitation, he can’t. 

He can’t say it.

Billy shakes his head. 

“Respect and responsibility,” Neil says, stepping into Billy’s space. Willing him to show his neck in submission. “I don’t want you sniffing around other packs, Billy.”

He peers up into Billy’s eyes, stern. “You obey me.”

Billy turns his head, hating himself, and Neil huffs in satisfaction. 

Billy loosens, thinking that’s all, when Neil sucker punches him, a quick two strike, stomach and ribs. 

It will bruise. But it doesn’t matter, because it looks like part of the fight with Steve. 

Billy goes to bed, but keeps his jacket on, because it smells nice, still. Like home.

Thursday, Billy goes to classes, aching in his side and stomach. He wraps his right arm in an ace bandage before basketball practice, hiding Steve under layers and layers of fabric. 

Billy tries not to go so hard after Steve again, giving him space, wondering why the fates chose him as Billy’s soulmate. 

Why they chose Billy to be Steve’s enemy. 

Steve keeps giving him strange glances, though. Out of the corner of his eye, when he thinks Billy isn’t looking. But Billy’s always looking. 

Billy lingers in the locker rooms, letting the first wave of guys out of the shower before he goes in. 

But Steve’s still in there, the long, pale line of his back scattered with marks like stars, hair still trying to stay up despite the weight of water. 

Billy slides over to one of the other showers, leaving Steve alone in the corner. He’s just reaching for the soap when the slap of feet on water stops him. Steve comes up to his side, not even tucked into a towel, just out for anyone to see, for Billy to see. 

Steve nods at Billy’s arm. “What happened?” he asks, concern lacing his voice, even if Billy doesn’t think he deserves it. 

“Got in a fight last night,” Billy says, picking the soap back up to lather. 

“Not good to let it fester, you need to air it out,” Steve continues. 

Billy glares at him. “Maybe I want it to scar. Chicks dig scars.” He soaps up his body as formally as he can, given the circumstances. He feels his neck heat from Steve’s gaze. He nods to Steve’s arm, _Billy_ in bright black. “Thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe it’ll fade like Nancy’s, if I get to know you.”

Billy blushes, but the pit of his stomach turns. Even if he’s Steve’s enemy, he’s still something of Steve’s. With the mark gone, what’s the point of Billy in Steve’s life?

“Don’t think so,” Billy says and rinses off, soap still on him, trying to get away from Steve’s questioning gaze. 

He dries off, hair still mostly wet and frizzy now because he didn’t stop to fix it, afraid Steve would corner him again. 

He slips into the library, slinking his way over to study room B, hoping no one actually sees him here. 

Dustin waves for him to get in impatiently. “Where have you been and why are you wet?” Dustin asks as soon as the door closes. 

“Basketball practice,” Billy answers. “Why are we here? Couldn’t I drive you out to the pumpkin field, or your house, or whatever?”

“Because the library has reference books I can’t check out,” Dustin says. “Stay in the corner, you’re going to drip all over them.”

“Shut up,” Billy hisses, but the anger and power he had last weekend has shriveled away for Dustin, because he just keeps going.

“I need to figure out what kind of fungus this is,” Dustin says, dragging the tupperware of black goop out. “I got it under the microscope in my free period, and made some sketches.” He passes a lined piece of paper to Billy. 

“Okay, so why am I here?” 

“You’re gonna get the reference books and be a lookout. I didn’t have an extra walkie talkie, so we’ll have to use code. If someone is coming this way just say _bologna_.”

“And we don’t want them in here because…” Billy raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh my God how are you this dense, I can’t have people finding out I’m doing this because I’ll get in trouble. Real trouble. And my friends will too, and I still know about —” the study room door slams open. “Steve,” Dustin finishes, as he takes in Harrington glaring at the both of them.

“Bologna,” Billy says dryly. 

“What are you two doing in here?” Steve hisses, shutting the door behind him. 

“We uh, we —” Dustin splutters, looking for an excuse around the room “Billy’s tutoring me?” he asks.

Steve frowns. “Billy. Is tutoring you.”

“Yep,” Dustin says, making his lips pop. 

Steve puts his hands on his hips looking like a mom. Billy shouldn’t find this attractive. 

“What are you tutoring him in?” Steve asks, turning to Billy.

“Science,” Billy says, clutching Dustin’s sketch of the fungus under the microscope.

Apparently that was the wrong answer, because Dustin is rolling his eyes and (over dramatically, if you ask Billy) putting his head in his hands. 

Steve’s locked onto him now, and Billy swallows under the attention. 

“You, are tutoring _him_ , in _science_?” Steve asks. He crosses his arms. “No. No way. Dustin, what’s going on, and don’t lie to me,” Steve turns. 

Dustin looks like a rabbit in headlights. 

“What’s the big deal, Harrington, I took AP Science in California, and Dustin wants to get into the AP classes here, so I’m helping him out,” Billy blurts, trying to get that laser focus back on him. 

“Since when has this been going on?” Steve’s moved on to the next question, and Billy starts to imagine him in a police officer’s uniform, which kinda does it for him.

“Yesterday,” Dustin answers like they’re on fucking Family Feud.

“I don’t buy it,” Steve says. “You two are up to something.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, research. You’re really biting into Dustin’s tutoring hour with your weird accusations, so beat it.” Billy nods to the door. 

Steve crosses his arms for the like fifteenth time. He pulls up a chair and sits, pouting. Frowning? Something about the way his lips move makes Billy’s insides twitch, but he can’t really put his finger on why. 

The name on his right arm burns.

“Okay, then I’ll sit in on you two,” Steve says, and Billy and Dustin exchange looks. “Go ahead, tutor.” 

“Uh,” Dustin says succinctly. “We’re actually, on a snack break,” he says, face lighting up. 

“You’re taking a snack break for an hour long tutoring session.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Harrington, just leave, okay? You’re obviously making Dustin nervous.”

Steve turns his doe like eyes to Billy. “No I’m not. What?” He looks to Dustin, then lands on the tupperware on the table. “Is that the snack?” he asks, pulling it towards him.

Dustin is shouting, and Billy snatches the container out of Steve’s hands, but not before he’s pried it open. 

It’s in Billy’s mouth, and it’s disgusting. He gags. 

“What the fuck?” Steve shouts, and Billy spits on the orange carpet, trying to get the acidic taste out. 

“Billy! We need, holy shit, we need to get you home,” Dustin says, flailing.

Billy shakes his head, not wanting to go home when Neil is there. “It’s just gross, Henderson, not damaging.”

Dustin grimaces. “Um…”

“Dustin, what the fuck,” Billy asks, and Steve stands up. 

“What is going on?!” he shouts. 

The door to study room B opens again, Ms. Mashburn standing there glaring. “Get out,” she hisses, pointing out the door, and Dustin grabs the tupperware with his sleeves and shuts it tightly before cramming it in his bag and running out.

Steve and Billy take one look at each other and follow suit. 

Dustin runs straight to the BMW and starts jiggling the handle to get in. “We gotta get home guys, I don’t know what’s gonna happen to Billy, my mom’s a nurse, she’ll know what to do,” he’s saying.

Steve pulls out his keys and unlocks the car, but slows when Dustin jumps in, shaking. 

“Guys, for fucking real, what’s happening?”

“The mold got in my mouth,” Billy says, and slides into shotgun. 

“The snack was mold?” Steve asks slowly.

Dustin groans. “It, might…have been upside down mold,” he rushes altogether to one word. “Does it still count if the gate is closed?” he asks.

“What’s upside down mold?” Billy asks, feeling flushed. Really flushed. Feverish, almost. “Turn the heaters off,” he whines, unbuttoning his shirt.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Steve says, turning to look at Dustin, suddenly firm and unyielding. Protective, even.

“‘M fine,” Billy says, shrugging off his shirt. The heat sweeping over his body feels unbearable, suddenly, and Billy reaches for the window crank, feeling weak. 

“What’s the hospital gonna do, Steve? His best option is us, and El. I’ll radio El.”

“Fuck!” Steve shouts, hitting the steering wheel, and cranks the engine. 

“Steve,” Billy says, watching him, “it’s really hot. Turn the ac on.” Billy feels a sheen of sweat start to cover his body. “‘M I dying?” he asks.

“Maybe,” Dustin says, moving around in the back seat. Billy doesn’t have enough energy to see what he’s doing. 

“Dustin!” Steve snaps.

“But mom will take care of you, I promise.”

“I like mom,” Billy whispers, pawing at the control panel on Steve’s overpriced foriegn car. 

“She likes you too, bud,” Dustin says, then he’s hissing something at Steve and the car revs up, pushing Billy back into the seat. 

Billy groans as the trees blur by, but then the car around him starts to blur too. Then, a terrible ache starts in his pelvis. It feels like he’s being opened up and stabbed, the pain going through his groin and down his thighs. Cramps, he realizes too late. He’s going into heat.

“‘M not dying,” he says, as Steve turns on the ac even though it’s freezing out, turns all the vents to Billy.

“That’s the spirit,” Steve mutters, gripping the wheel. 

Dustin is behind Billy yelling about gold leaders. 

“I don’t know what upside down mold is, but I’m okay, it’s just,” fuck, “my heat.”

Billy can’t tell if he’s overly warm from shame or the heat, but he still feels his face go red. 

“Your what?” Dustin screams, practically in Billy’s ear.

Steve’s been staring at him for so long Billy’s surprised they haven’t wrecked. 

“Billy, are you seriously telling me you’re going into heat?” Steve chokes out.

Billy laughs, but it comes out as a cough. “Never thought your enemy would be an omega?”

“The chances are pretty slim,” Dustin admits. “I think you’re like, the only omega I’ve ever met. Or heard of that wasn’t like, a rumor. This is wild.”

“Dustin, focus!” Steve yells, and turns a sharp corner. 

“Okay, okay,” Steve is muttering. “That helps, we know what’s the reaction at least, right?”

“You got the cure?” Billy leers, feeling hateful. Why not, after all he’s going into heat in his unrequited soulmate’s car with a pup in the backseat. Things are never really good for Billy.

Steve doesn’t answer, his face red, but the car lurches to a stop, and Dustin climbs out, yelling at Mrs. Henderson to open the door. 

Steve walks around and helps Billy up, slinging a loose arm over his shoulder, and Billy whines at Harrington’s scent. It seems stronger now, and Billy can’t tell if that’s because Billy’s knee deep in a heat that’s been coming for three years or because Steve is pushing the scent out as a pure reaction to Billy.

Everything’s topsy turvy. 

“What happened?” Claudia gasps as soon as Steve drags him over the threshold. “Steve, put Billy in the spare room, please,” she says, already snapping into action, scooping up her purse and following them down the hall. 

“Billy’s gone into heat,” Dustin whisper-yells.

“Oh, well, that’s natural,” Claudia says. “Set him on the bed, please.”

Steve, in a show of alpha strength, scoops Billy’s heavy weight up and lays him gently on the green and yellow quilt. 

Steve steps back. 

Claudia puts her hand on Billy’s wrist, frowns at the bandages, and turns to where Dustin and Steve are watching, wide eyed like two pups. 

“Could you boys give us some privacy please?” she asks, and Steve blushes and nods, while Dustin immediately opens his wide mouth to protest. 

Steve guides him out of the room and closes the door before Dustin can really get going.

“I’m sorry honey, I’m gonna have to take off the bandages to get a good pulse. It’ll help cool you off too,” Mrs. Henderson says, hovering, her hand not quite touching Billy’s covered arms. 

Billy has to make a choice. “The left one,” he says, and rolls over for Claudia to quickly unwrap his arm as another wave of cramps rush through Billy. 

Claudia doesn’t say anything about Neil’s name embedded in his skin, just puts her fingers to his wrist and holds up her watch. She hums. “A little high,” she confirms. “Nothing unusual though.” 

She turns to the closed door. “Dusty, get me a glass of water,” she says, and there’s shuffling behind the door. 

Dustin bursts in with two Dixie cups of water. “Here,” he pants. 

“Thank you sweetie, now please go to the livingroom and watch tv, okay?”

Dustin frowns, looking at Billy on the bed, his enemy arm bare. He kicks at the carpet, “But mom,” he starts.

“Dustin Henderson!” Claudia says firmly, but not unkind, and Dustin leaves, head down.

“Don’t worry about him,” she says. “He’ll be okay.”

“Wasn’t worried,” Billy says, and Claudia lets the lie go. 

“Pups before the change can get very attached, especially if they’re in distress. I’m fairly certain he’s going to be an alpha, the way he reacts to you.”

Billy blushes, but doesn’t know why, so blushes some more. 

“When was your last heat?” Claudia asks softly, digging through her enormous purse. She pulls out some ibuprofen. “How many?”

Billy clears his throat, ready to give the pat answer.

“Billy I’m not your mother, but I know you’re in pain, so how many. You can have up to eight.”

“Four,” he relents.

She pours them in her hand and passes the pills and water to him. 

“Last heat?” she asks again.

“Three years ago. I was fourteen.” He squeezes his eyes shut, feels so hot. 

“Alright,” Claudia says, not mentioning how unhealthy that is. “Have you been taking blockers?”

“Drinking the uh, the tea.”

Claudia frowns. “Did someone tell you to?” she asks, her eyes darting to Neil’s name, then Billy’s face.

Billy shook his head. “He didn’t have to.”

Claudia sighs, places a cool hand over Billy’s sweaty forehead. “I’m going to take your temperature, and then we’ll talk solutions, okay?”

Billy nods, and Claudia pulls out a covered thermometer out of her purse. 

She puts it in Billy’s mouth and times the mercury rising in the tube on her watch. Seemingly satisfied, she pulls it out. “A hundred point three,” she says. She shakes the thermometer a little and looks again. “I’m sure this isn’t new to you Billy, but here are your choices.”

Billy swallows.

“You can tough it out the next couple of hours to days and I’ll get you a luke warm bath and some mint gel to cool off your body, taking more pain meds every four hours til you break through.”

“Or?” Billy rasps.

“Or,” Claudia says, “I can go down to the store and get you a toy, and along with the other things, and it’ll be over a lot faster.”

Billy closes his eyes and rolls over, his back to Mrs. Henderson. He feels tears coming unbidden again. “It’s stupid,” he says, feeling childish. Feeling lost.

“It’s not stupid, it’s biology,” Claudia says, rubbing his back, and it sounds so much like Dustin, Billy gives a watery laugh. 

“Do alphas really help?” he asks, tensing. 

Claudia’s not dumb; she knows Steve’s an alpha.

“Yes, their hormones and scent can help ease the process, but that’s really up to the alpha and the omega’s choices, not something you should force.”

Billy whines as a fresh wave of pain, and there, yes, slick starting to come out. “Run the bath,” he says, and Claudia sweeps back his hair and kisses his forehead before leaving to do just that.

The bath helps, Billy realizes stupidly. It helps and it doesn’t, and it feels like it’s been four hours since he’s had the pills, but Claudia insists it hasn’t. 

There’s another knock on the door. “Come in,” Billy slurs, torso dipped into the water, feet up on the cool, seafoam green tile. He’s got the shower curtain pulled closed, letting the dark cool him off even more. 

“Mrs. Henderson sent me to check on you,” Steve’s low voice filters through. 

“No she didn’t,” Billy accuses, pulling the curtain back to glare at Steve. “She would be in here, not you.”

Steve’s eyes dart around. “Yeah, okay. I wanted to see how you were.”

“Fine,” Billy bites out, looking at the clear water. 

Steve’s eyes look to Billy’s wet and bandaged arm, clutching the shower curtain. “Are you supposed to still have that on?” he asks. “Isn’t it, you know,” he shrugs, leaning against the wall next to the tub, “uncomfortable?”

“I’m not unwrapping it,” Billy says.

“I showed you mine,” Steve wheedles. He turns his wrists up. Billy’s name is still there. Nancy’s is gone.

“Think mine will fade too?” Billy asks, almost sad to see it go. 

Steve slides down the wall, landing with a thump on the floor. 

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Steve says, running his fingertips over Billy’s name.

“What happened to making nice?”

“I’m still nice!” Steve sputters. He bites his lip. “Dustin told me,” he admits.

“That little fucker did _what_?” Billy asks, trying to surge out of the tub to kill Dustin, but his arms give out immediately from weakness. Water splashes over the side.

“Don’t get mad,” Steve says, too late. “I’m glad he told me.”

“What, so you can lord it over me? King Steve, got another one in his kingdom, too bad I’m his enemy.”

“No,” Steve blinks. “I’m glad he told me because that means I’m not alone.”

Billy looks at him. 

“I’m alone a lot, Billy, no one’s ever home, but we have each other’s names, then,” he shrugs, eyes wet, “then maybe we don’t have to hurt anymore.”

Billy leans back and inhales, taking in Steve’s scent, the cotton and earthy smell of him, and sighs. “Claudia says,” he clears his throat. “Claudia says it never hurts to ask for help, it’s just hard.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks softly, leaning in. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Would you go get me a toy at Melvald’s and help me get this out of my system? Heats suck.”

Steve blushes, but his face lights up with a smile. “I can do that,” he says breathlessly, scrambling to get up. He’s one step to the door when he turns around. “One more thing,” he says.

He leans down and takes Billy’s mouth to his, and takes Billy too. 

**Author's Note:**

> for HFA! for Pepter. Thanks for hanging in there, good buddy.


End file.
